Brother of the Heart
by Lil black dog
Summary: Why is Jim Kirk convinced he'll die alone?  Maybe because he almost did once…


A/N: Why is Jim Kirk convinced he'll die alone? Maybe because he almost did once… A Jimmy and Sam Kirk childhood story which sheds some light on Kirk's fear of dying alone.

Framed within events depicted in ST: V, it is highly recommended that the reader at least be familiar with the last few scenes of that movie, and that within that film Kirk first confessed his conviction that he'll die alone.

Written for the 'Phobia' challenge at Ad Astra.

Beta: Once again, T'Paya and Sam Pengraff have come to my rescue. They represent my Sam Kirk. :D

**Brother of the Heart**

He couldn't believe this was happening. Even as his fingers dug into the crumbling rock, his legs propelling him ever further toward the top of the cliff, the surreal images continued to flood his mind: Sybok, turning his entire crew against him; his ship, not only passing through but surviving its journey beyond the barrier of intense radiation at the center of the galaxy. The beautiful image of the planet Spock's brother had called Sha Ka Ree, and the figure that at first glance had seemed benevolent, omnipotent, the embodiment of the Supreme Deity, rapidly morphing into the sadistic, malevolent, incensed energy being now pursuing him with single-minded determination. It wanted his ship, and would stop at nothing to get it.

He had done all he could to guarantee Spock and McCoy's safety, to give them and the _Enterprise_ a chance to escape unscathed, but the need to know if he'd been successful gnawed at him like a Centaurian Ceil Cat chewing on an old, desiccated bone.

Finally reaching the pinnacle he scrambled to his feet, pulling out his communicator. "Kirk to _Enterprise_." Static was the only reply, but he didn't have time to contemplate the reason. A noise above caused him to glance skyward. A ship was approaching, its weapons targeting the maniacal entity scaling the wall below him.

But to his horror, it wasn't the _Galileo_ as he'd expected (the _Copernicus_ lay in ruin, one hundred meters away, destroyed by the ethereal being in a fit of rage), miraculously repaired and coming to his rescue like the American Cavalry of old, but a Klingon Bird of Prey. It dropped out of the sky to hover fifty meters above him.

Anger and grim resignation filled him with bitterness. The only way this ship could have gotten this close to him was if it had destroyed the _Enterprise_ first. Dark thoughts engulfed his mind in that instant. _I've just been terrorized by a being that fancies itself to be God, I've lost everything that's important to me, I'm alone, and now I'm going to die._

As the dust swirled around him, kicked up by the exhaust from the enemy ship's engines, he was suddenly transported back to a different time, a different place. He heard again the grinding of stone on stone, the smell of damp earth heavy in his nostrils, his leg throbbing with a remembered pain, almost incapacitated by a crushing sense of _aloneness_. Time and placed blurred, meshed, became one and he realized that it was up to him now to determine whether he survived or succumbed to the images, both current and those of old, that represented his past and future destiny.

He thought he'd met God once before when he was six…the first time in his life when he'd been alone and certain he was going to die.

oooOOOooo

"Whaddya think, Sam – is what he said true?"

The sigh traveled to him through the darkness, the squeaky groan of springs attesting to the fact that his brother had shifted his position. "Dunno. Curtis has pulled the wool over our eyes before," Sam answered carefully, trying to think things through rationally, to set the example for his little brother, to be the voice of reason.

"Yeah, I know, but you saw it, same as me."

"Sure I did, but how do we know it was real, or if he even really found it at the old mine?"

Jimmy rolled onto his stomach as well, barely able to make out the figure of his older brother on his own bed across the room in the dim moonlight. "It can't hurt to go and look, can it?"

"You know mom said we aren't allowed within half a kilometer of that old place. If we get caught—"

"We _won't_! 'Sides, if we do, I'll do the talking. You know I have a knack for getting mom to see things our way."

Sam chuckled softly. "You sure do, but even I don't think you could talk your way out of this one."

"I won't have to. If we come home with a few nuggets the size of the one Curtis showed us, she'll be so happy she'll forget all about being mad at us."

Silence ensued as his brother considered that.

"C'mon Sam, please? Say you'll go with me. If that doofus could find a hunk of gold that big, just think what you and me could do."

A soft grunt as Sam weighed the benefits versus the consequences. "Mom's never gonna buy it. It'll take the better part of the day to get there, look for the gold, and get back home before supper. We'll need an air-tight excuse if we ever hope to get away with it," Sam added skeptically.

"Leave that to me – I already have an idea."

"Figures. Why did I ever doubt that you did, Squirt?"

Jimmy grinned to himself in the darkness. "So whaddya say – you wanna go look at least?"

"I'm sure I'll be sorry for letting you talk me into this, but I know if I don't you'll wind up going by yourself. Someone needs to be there to look out for ya," Sam remarked. Despite the darkness obscuring his view, Jimmy could almost see Sam's chest swell with brotherly protectiveness.

"Aw shut up Sam," he intoned, hurling an extra pillow in the direction of the disembodied voice. Settling himself back under the covers he added, "Go to sleep – we'll need to get an early start tomorrow."

oooOOOooo

They were up before the sun, solidifying their plan as they completed all their morning chores at breakneck speed. Breathless and exuberant with pent-up energy, they stumbled into the kitchen where their mother was busy making breakfast.

The smells of bacon frying and freshly-baked biscuits met them, making their stomachs complain loudly. They rushed for the table but their mom's voice stopped them.

"You boys go wash up before you sit down," she admonished, watching them race for the sink. But something in their demeanor just seemed off. Like all mothers everywhere, she seemed to have an uncanny sense for knowing when all was not as it appeared to be where her children were concerned.

"You boys were sure up early, especially for a Saturday," Winona remarked casually, deftly cracking eggs into a pan that snapped and sizzled as the contents, once freed from their calcite cocoons, hit the melted fat.

Shaking the water from their hands, her sons headed for the kitchen table once again.

"Well, uh, that's 'cause we want to go to fishin' today," Jimmy answered just as casually, slipping into a chair and smearing butter and jelly onto a warm biscuit.

"Why so early then? The fishing hole's only a little ways from here."

"We hadta dig for bait, and we're not goin' to the usual place." The older Kirk's gaze traveled to Jimmy, a tense moment shared between the two brothers. They had decided to let Sam do most of the talking in hopes of keeping their mom's suspicions at bay. "All the kids are goin' to what's left of the old Wombacher farm instead. You know that pond on the property? It's supposed to have the biggest catfish in all of Washington County. They call him the ol' Cat O' Nine Lives, 'cause no one's been able to catch him for fifty years. We're gonna see which of us kids can catch him first," Sam supplied, washing down his own biscuit with a giant swig of orange juice and attempting – and failing miserably – to stifle a belch.

His mother shot him a reproachful look. "'Scuse me," he added as an afterthought.

"That's an awfully long way away. Seems to me there's plenty of fish in your usual fishing hole," their mom countered skeptically.

"Aw mom, you know it's full of nuthin' but bluegills and minnows. We're gettin' bigger now – and we need more of a challenge." Jimmy straightened in his chair, drawing himself up to his full six-year-old height.

Winona couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, that you are," she said, reaching over to tousle his curly mop of straw-colored hair. "You two are growing like a couple of out-of-control Cow Itch vines. Your dad won't even recognize you when he gets home on leave." She switched gears. "Who all's going?" she asked, turning her attention to the stove once again.

"Justa buncha the guys," Sam interjected, "nobody special."

"Do you boys want me to give you a lift?" Winona asked, heading for the table with the skillet and filling their plates with eggs, bacon and home fries.

"Nah," Sam answered, trying to chew and talk at the same time. "The guys will tease us – call us sissies or somethin' if we hafta have our mom take us. We were gonna ride our bikes." A pause as he swallowed quickly. "'Sides, that way when we're done we can just hightail it home," he added matter-of-factly.

For the moment Jimmy had nothing to say, quickly demolishing the contents of his own plate.

Their mom didn't answer right away, piling dirty pans and dishes into the sink instead. The boys knew by her silence that Winona was weighing their story carefully. She was already well-versed in unraveling their often unorthodox schemes. Jimmy had chosen that particular location in hopes of counteracting their mother's proven intuition, fully aware it would provide them with an excuse to be gone for the better part of the day, and the distance from the Kirk homestead would make it difficult for their mom to check up on their story. They traded surreptitious looks behind her back as she stood at the sink, the swishing of the dishrag as it slid over the soiled cooking utensils and the interruption in the flow of water from the faucet as dishes were rinsed the only sounds in the room. Jimmy opened his mouth to speak, but a shake of the head from Sam stopped him. If they seemed too eager, pressed the issue too hard, their mom was bound to figure things out and forbid them to go.

But as the silence stretched, the younger Kirk found he couldn't contain himself any longer. "So whaddya say, mom – can we go?" he asked in a rush, receiving a kick in the shin from Sam for his trouble.

"I don't see why not, as long as all your chores are done," she answered slowly, her tone measured yet still conveying an air of uncertainty.

"They are," both boys chimed in simultaneously.

"Then I'll pack a lunch for you." As she turned to face them, her eyes twinkling, that forced smile of motherly suspicion played over her lips. "Should I count on fresh catfish for dinner?"

"Now mom," Jimmy admonished quickly, interrupting before Sam had a chance to respond. "That wouldn't be very sportsmanlike of us to keep him and eat him after we catch him. He's already survived for all these years. Dontcha think lettin' him go would be the right thing to do?" her younger son answered sagely, glancing at his brother. Boy, she'd come close to tripping them up with that one.

Winona had given them both a strange look at that, causing a moment of sheer panic, but Jimmy summoned up his most innocent smile, and after careful consideration her misgivings seemed to vanish. "Okay, go get your stuff and I'll meet you outside in ten minutes with your lunch."

They had both thanked her profusely while practically tripping over one another to get out the door.

When Winona emerged a few minutes later with their lunches, the boys had everything they would need to convince her once and for all that they were going on a fishing trip strapped to their bikes – or so they thought.

As she handed Jimmy his lunch, Winona bent to retrieve the bait bucket, left sitting on the lowest step of the back porch.

"Here's food for you, and you sure wouldn't want to forget the food for Cat O' Nine Lives, especially since you spent so much time this morning digging for it." She gave her younger son a knowing look.

"Thanks, mom," he stammered, unable to meet her gaze, afraid that if he did his face would betray everything.

Slinging the bucket, which was devoid of worms (they had filled it with dirt, just in case she decided to open it), over the handlebars of his bike he swung a leg over the frame, settling onto the seat and starting out after his older brother. Casting a hurried glance over his shoulder he saw that his mom was watching them, shading her eyes against the morning sun, wearing that look that said she still wasn't totally convinced by their story.

Swiveling his head back around he raced after Sam, hoping they'd be out of sight before their mom changed her mind.

oooOOOooo

The ride was long, dusty and uneventful, and except for a stop or two to sip at their canteens they pedaled all the way there at a brisk pace, halting outside the rusty wire fence surrounding the six acres or so that cordoned off the dangerous area.

Defunct for over a hundred and twenty-five years, the Cedar Creek Coal Mine had been one of the few underground mines which had operated in the area. Opened early in the twentieth century, it had been a large producer of coal for the region for close to two centuries.

Most of its tunnels were just shy of a kilometer below ground, but years of disuse had led a good number of them to collapse, causing rifts and fissures to appear in the deep layer of soil closer to the surface. Due to the numerous cave-ins and sinkholes criss-crossing the region, the surrounding area had been declared unsafe almost seventy-five years ago, the ground above unstable, and therefore unfit for farming or habitation of any kind.

Within the confines of the fenced area there were several large towers of scree – the remnants of the shattered bits of rock that had been removed as the tunnels were dug ever deeper. It was in one of these shifting piles of debris Curtis had claimed to have discovered his prize, assuring all his schoolmates who had listened with the eager attentiveness only the young can muster that there were many more to be found, just prime for the taking.

Parking their bikes outside, the boys quickly scaled the two-meter fence, both dropping from the top to the loose dirt below.

Surveying the scene quickly, Jimmy tried to take charge. "Let's split up – we'll be able to look at a lot more stuff that way," he said, starting toward the nearest pile.

A firm hand on his thin shoulder stopped him. "That's fine, but just be careful, Squirt. The signs outside said there're lots of holes in the area on account of tunnels that caved in. The last thing we need is to fall into one of 'em."

"You're such a worrywart, Sam. Nuthin' bad's gonna happen, and mom'll be thrilled when we come home with enough gold to pay for all the seed for next year's crops."

The comment had no effect on his older brother. "I'm not kidding, Squirt. You know you have a knack for finding trouble. Just don't do anything stupid, okay? If you do, it's my ass on the line. You know mom'll blame me."

Jimmy shrugged off his brother's hand, a wall of resentment slamming down between them. "I'm _not_ stupid, and I'm _not_ a little kid anymore. I'll be fine," he remarked gruffly, the rock chips crunching under his sneakers as he began his ascent of the tall mountain of debris before him.

He heard Sam step away, climbing his own pile of rubble. The boys worked in silence for the next twenty minutes or so, the clinking of rock against rock as the brothers searched in vain for their elusive treasure the only sound other than the sighing of the wind as it swept over the area.

Sam was the first to disturb the quiet. "There's nothin' here, Squirt. Curtis played us for fools as usual. We should just go."

But something in the distance had caught Jimmy's eye. "Sam! Over here! I think I found something!" he yelled, scrambling over the top of the pile. He turned to see if his older brother was behind him when suddenly the ground shifted beneath his feet. He scrabbled in vain for purchase as the surface stones skittered and tumbled down the slope, dragging him along with them, until suddenly all was dark, he felt himself falling, and knew no more.

oooOOOooo

His first conscious memory was of screams emanating from overhead, pulsing perfectly in time to the throbbing in his temples. Disoriented, unsure of what had happened, he looked up into the narrow shaft of light, his first thought being _Am I dead? Is that God calling me?_ If it was, the Almighty's voice sounded eerily like that of his brother. He strove to make sense of the words.

"Jimmy! Are you okay?" He heard what sounded like a muffled sob. "Please answer me, Squirt!"

"Sam? Is that you?" he called weakly.

The sobs changed to a cross between a cynical laugh, overshadowed by a layer of hysteria, and an explosive sigh of relief. "Jimmy! I thought maybe you fell all the way down to the bottom of a tunnel. Are you hurt?"

He ignored the question. "Sam, where are you? I can't see you."

"I'm here, Squirt, but I can't get too close, otherwise all these loose stones'll slide down into the hole."

"What hole?"

"The one you fell into. Are you hurt?" his brother reiterated.

A pause as Jimmy took stock. "My leg hurts somethin' awful – I'm pretty sure it's broke – and my head's b-b-bleeding," he stammered, his fingers coming away coated in blood as he swiped at a particularly painful spot above his eyebrow. He felt a strong wave of panic crash over him.

"How far down are you? Are you at the bottom, or just wedged in?"

Jimmy took stock of his surroundings. "It's like a narrow chimney on top, and it opens up into a wider space down here where I'm at, kinda like a real small cave."

"How far down are you?" Sam asked again. "Maybe I can reach down and haul you out."

"I'm too far down for that. But you could shimmy down the narrow part, get down here to where I am and then boost me up. I can't reach it on account of my busted leg."

"Nothin' doing. It's bad enough you're stuck, but if I come in after you and get stuck too, no one will ever find us. Besides, if I try to climb down to the opening, lots of these loose rocks are sure to fall on you. Damn!" his brother swore. "There's no other choice." Silence for a few long seconds. "Squirt, now listen to me carefully – I'm gonna hafta go for help."

"NO! SAM, DON'T LEAVE ME!" The acrid taste of bile filled his mouth as he struggled to sit up, a wave of dizziness instantly derailing him.

Somehow, his older brother sensed what he was doing. "Squirt, don't try to move – just lie still. You might've hurt your neck or back or somethin'," Sam said, his tone calm, even, reassuring. "Moving around might make it worse."

"They don't hurt Sam, just my leg and my head. Please! I'm gonna try to stand up and climb outta here." His voice had risen considerably.

"JIMMY DON'T! We're gonna be in so much trouble as it is. I should never have let you talk me into this. If you get hurt worse because I let you try and climb out mom's gonna _kill_ me."

"I don't care – I'm not stayin' in here!" He pushed himself to a seated position, but knew without trying the leg would never hold him.

"Jimmy, please don't," his brother pleaded from above, desperation and helplessness now bleeding through the façade of calm.

"I tried but I can't stand up." Despair and guilt punctuated his tone. "I'm sorry Sam – I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

"I know." A long pause from above, followed by a deep sigh of resignation. "You never mean to, but somehow you always do just the same." A soft chuckle floated down to him. "Hopefully you can convince mom not to ground me for the rest of my life."

Jimmy couldn't help but laugh at that as well, but the moment of levity was short-lived.

"Sam," his voice broke. "I'm scared."

"Me too, Squirt, but the only way to fix things is for me to go get help, so you've gotta be brave – braver than you've ever been."

"Sam. What if I can't?" he asked uncertainly, the words catching in his throat.

"You can do this, Squirt – you have to. I _know _you can. I'll be back as quick as I can." A beat. "You're the bravest little kid I know. I'll be back before you know it – trust me."

"I do Sam – you're the best big brother a kid could ever want."

"I'm going now, Squirt. Try to think of somethin' else, and you won't even know I was gone – I'll be back in no time."

The younger Kirk found himself unable to answer, the fear now visceral, the panic tangible, blanketing him from all sides like the oppressive darkness enveloping him.

"Jimmy? You still with me?" There was a definite note of anxiety in Sam's voice.

"Yeah." He tried unsuccessfully to swallow a sob.

"Jimmy, don't you DARE start bawling!"

"I'm NOT bawling. Some dirt just got stuck in my throat is all."

"Well that's good, 'cause crying about it won't change a thing." The big brother mindset had returned as Sam scolded his little brother. "You'd never catch dad crying in a situation like this. Try and think about that, and be brave like dad, okay?"

"Okay, I will." He scrubbed at his eyes, striving to banish the tears. "Now go an' get help – I don't wanna be stuck down here all day," he said, trying mightily to project a bravado he definitely didn't feel, wanting to reassure his brother that he'd be okay while Sam was gone. This wasn't Sam's fault, but his. His brother shouldn't have to feel guilty for his mistake, and certainly shouldn't have to worry that his kid brother would lose it once Sam left.

_You stupid IDIOT_, he admonished himself. _Sam was right all along, and now he's gonna be in trouble 'cause of you. Why'd you hafta go and break your leg? If you hadn't, you coulda climbed outta here with Sam's help, and mom never woulda known what happened, but no – you hadta fix it so mom's gonna kill us both. Some great brother YOU are._

But a sigh of relief sounded from above. "Bye, Squirt; hang in there, I'll be back real soon." He heard the shifting of the scree as Sam made his way to the top of the pile, a few rogue rocks raining down on him. Soon that sound was gone as well, despite straining his ears to hear something, anything to let him know someone was still there.

_I'm alone,_ his mind cried. He couldn't ever remember being alone before – not like this. He felt the pathological fear rise again, sucking his breath from him. It was as if a heavy weight had settled on his chest, crushing it; as if he was drowning in the sudden quiet. He broke out in a cold sweat, cramming a fist in his mouth to stop the scream that threatened to spill forth from his lips.

_I can't think about this – I'll go nuts!_ He closed his eyes, the blackness behind his eyelids somehow comforting, safe, blocking out the all-encompassing darkness and invisible dangers lurking throughout his earthen prison.

His thoughts shifted to his POA* pony, and he imagined himself riding bareback at a stiff gallop across the plains, the driving wind sucking the moisture from his eyes, the breath from his lungs, close on Sam's heels but never quite able to catch his brother astride his own fleet-footed mount.

He heard the pounding of hooves, smelled the sweet scent of alfalfa growing in the adjacent fields. The warmth of the sun kissed his shoulders, the back of his neck, the memory serving to center his racing mind, beating back the fear, replacing it with a sense of calm, a razor-sharp focus and steadfast determination unusual for one so young.

He remained lost in that world until he heard gentle rustling from above, commingled with soft squeaks and grunts. Opening his eyes he peered into the gloom, certain he detected a hint of movement on the low ceiling.

_Bats, _his mind supplied, even though he couldn't see any. He repressed a shudder, the veneer of unflappable resolve starting to crack. _They only go after things that are movin',_ he tried to reassure himself. Many a summer night he and Sam had stood outside, heaving small pebbles high into the air and watching the bats swoop down to chase them as they fell back to Earth, pursuing them with a single-minded intensity, convinced they were homing in on a juicy insect.

He'd asked Sam once if there were any vampire bats in Iowa, but the older Kirk had assured him such things only existed south of the border. _But what if it's the first colony to find its way here?_ he argued. _If they suck my blood will I turn into Dracula? _The image of himself as a blood-sucking ghoul, draining the life from friends and strangers alike, brought with it a new pulse of paralyzing terror. _I'll just hafta stay perfectly still – like a statue. Then they won't be able to find me._

He let his mind drift again, closing his eyes against the vision of bright red blood dripping from his fangs, replacing it with an image of the night sky. The vast expanse that was the cosmos had always had a calming effect on him, and he began silently naming the constellations, and the stars contained within each. His mind wandered first to Sirius – the Dog Star – the brightest star in the night sky, traveling on to the red and blue giants of Betelgeuse and Rigel, marking the opposite corners of the Constellation of Orion. He imagined the golden, shimmering carpet of the Milky Way hovering just over the hunter's head and just below the feet of the twins of Gemini, the formations that made up their celestial bodies capped by the bright stars of Castor and Pollux.

He continued his northward journey in his mind's eye, following the sparkling path of the Milky Way, picking out the shape of the Big Dipper from the larger constellation of Ursa Major, the two pointer stars Merak and Dubhe aligning with Polaris – the North Star – the one sailors and explorers had used for millennia to guide them home.

_Home!_ His eyes snapped open as the tears began to well up again. What if he never made it back there? It represented all that he knew, all that was good, and safe, and at the moment he felt as if he were light years away from it.

The shift in the dim sunlight filtering in through the narrow slice in the ground above him attested to how much time had passed since his brother had left him here. What if something had happened to Sam on the way home and help never came? He'd die here, trapped, alone and in pain, the bats and bugs eating away at his corpse until only bleached bones remained.

_I'll never see them again_. He choked back a sob. Mom. The thought of causing her pain, of how she would react when they eventually found his body made his throat close, brought a tightness to his chest, caused a new sharp pain that settled just behind his eyes.

He already missed that secret smile she saved for him alone; the one that let him know she knew he was up to something, but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The same one she had given him this morning as he and Sam were leaving.

It took something like this to finally make him see the love she packed into everything she did for him and Sam, whether it was something as simple as making their lunch or keeping watch over them when they were sick or hurt. Her gentle hand caressing his cheek, strong fingers tickling him until he was breathless, causing whatever sour mood that had plagued him moments before to instantly evaporate, carried away by the hearty giggles brought about by her tender touch.

And she was fair – got upset with them only when they deserved it; punished them only when necessary, and always with the hope that it would prove to be a lesson – one that would make them better men, better human beings someday. He suddenly became aware of her strength, her resiliency, for she was raising the two of them virtually alone while their father was away. Not strong like she could lift a flitter or anything, but mentally strong, emotionally tough, like he wished he could be right now.

Angrily brushing the moisture from his cheeks he took a deep breath, trying to force the destructive thoughts from his mind, trying to imagine what his mom would do in this situation. He knew without question that she wouldn't panic. He'd never seen her panic – even when that small fire had started in the barn last year, or when that tornado had rumbled by only a scant kilometer from their house last month.

Images from the happy times he had shared with his brother filled the darkness: Sam, always running a few steps ahead of him, just out of reach, daring him – no challenging him – to constantly strive to be his best, to push himself beyond his own expectations; his brother teaching him how to properly bait a fishhook; the two of them, standing shoulder to shoulder, defending their snow fort to the last man, repelling all attackers with volley after volley of snowballs. Lazy summer days of fishing and swimming interspersed with the crisp snap of winter days spent sledding or playing ice hockey on the frozen pond. The way it was fine for his brother to pick on him, tease him, start a fight with him, but how Sam would thoroughly trounce anyone else who tried to hurt his kid brother.

And dad – a man he seldom saw, but looked up to nonetheless. Jimmy so wished to be like his father; wanted to follow in his footsteps and make a name for himself in space. More than anything, he wanted to earn his father's respect. And that surely wouldn't happen if he started bawling like a baby.

_I hafta be strong for all of them_, he told himself. _Sam said I hadta be tough, be brave – and I _will. _And I'm _not _alone…I'm _not _going to die. Sam was with me and he'll bring help, just like he promised_.

As his thoughts once again settled on Sam, he could almost hear the whisper of his brother's voice, calling him, telling him help was on the way. He closed his eyes once more, this time not to shut out the fear, but to welcome the comfort, the peace, the contentment of knowing Sam wouldn't let him down. He was _not_ alone, and therefore would most assuredly survive.

As he ran through other events from their childhood in his mind's eye, the whisper became stronger, closer, until he realized the sound wasn't coming from inside his head, but from without.

"Jimmy! I'm back and I brought help! They're cutting a hole in the fence right now. Are you okay, Squirt?" He could now hear the crunch of stones, see a mist of fine dust sifting through the weak sunlight beating in from above, disturbed by Sam's footfalls as he clambered across the pile of rubble.

Relief flooded him. "Yeah, I'm fine." A sob of pure, unadulterated joy bubbled up from within. Finding his voice he said simply, "Thanks, Sam – you're the best."

oooOOOooo

That horrific experience from his childhood, one he hadn't revisited in many, many years, faded suddenly. He was firmly convinced he hadn't died that summer day so long ago, despite being alone for what had seemed like an eternity, trapped with no way out, because Sam had been with him when the accident happened, and had brought help.

All in all, it had taken nearly two days to extricate him from his prison. At first, it had been decided to simply beam Jimmy out of his predicament using the state's central transporter unit located in Des Moines, but operators there had not been able to lock onto him successfully, the beam hopelessly scattered due to some as yet unidentified element present in the towering piles of rubble. Reluctant to navigate the mounds of scree for fear of having them bury the injured youngster under tons of debris, the only option left was for the rescuers to dig a shaft thirty meters away, burrowing under the massive piles, angling it across and down so it descended the ten meters he had dropped during the fall. Fortunately they hadn't had to tunnel through any bedrock, just the compressed layer of rich, Iowan soil.

Even though the emergency workers had been able to deliver small amounts of food, water and warm blankets via the hole through which he had fallen, once finally freed he had been tired, hungry, in pain, slightly dehydrated and more than a little scared, but since that summer day he'd never felt the palpable fear of death, never felt as _alone _as he had during those few hours he'd spent in that damp, dark hole waiting for Sam to return with help.

But now there was no Sam; no one left to come to his rescue. This time he was truly alone, squaring off against a Klingon Bird of Prey with nothing but his bare hands, formidable grit, and intense determination - the only things standing between him and certain oblivion.

He forcibly worked to shut down the panic, the fear, the helplessness, the _aloneness_ the memory had triggered deep within him.

Taking a fortifying breath he reached for calm, focus, an unwavering strength of will – all the things that had sustained him that day so long ago. "You Klingon bastards," he railed at the glowing, bulbous nose of the ship hovering above him. "If you want me, come and get me!"

He felt his body start to dissolve, convinced this would be his final moment of life, his last taste of a mortal existence.

oooOOOooo

When the transporter room of the Klingon ship materialized around him, his first thought was _so I _am_ dead, and this is Hell._ It was the ultimate cosmic joke. But that notion quickly vanished as two burly guards manhandled him roughly off the platform.

Fully expecting to be taken to the ship's brig, his mind drifted to that which he would unquestionably have to endure. Klingon methods of interrogation were 'imaginative' to say the least, and he began bracing himself for the inevitable pain, torture and unspeakable mental anguish that were sure to follow. This may not be Hell in the literal sense, but it would definitely qualify as purgatory.

When they stepped onto the bridge instead he couldn't have been more surprised. His initial shock was compounded when he recognized General Korrd standing on the upper rim, the Bird of Prey's captain sullen, contrite and silent at Korrd's side. The Klingon Ambassador to the Planet of Galactic Peace pointed to the command chair. "Meet our new gunner," he intoned.

Kirk's eyes followed Korrd's finger. _Great. Now what? Who could possibly be in the center seat? Kor? Kang maybe? _He had unfinished business with both captains, each having sworn their revenge upon him. Perhaps one of them was now coming to collect that debt. _How much worse can this get? _Thoughts of losing the _Enterprise, _as well as his two best friends, brought forth an undercurrent of unimaginable grief. They'd fought so hard to save Spock. Reliving the pain of his death yet again proved to be positively unbearable. No matter who was in that chair he'd be ready. He was as alone as he'd ever been. His own life was of little consequence now. _ Bring it_ he thought. _Everything that mattered to me is already gone. I have nothing left to lose_.

He tensed as the chair started to swivel, but was unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. The figure in the captain's chair was not that of a nemesis he had faced before, but that of Spock. His friend rose calmly to his feet. "Welcome aboard, Captain."

He blinked, utterly stunned. This could only mean one thing – once again, he had cheated death, both he and his ship miraculously surviving against all odds. And this time he had Spock to thank for that. Much as he had believed it to be so, he hadn't been alone; Spock had been with him all along. Just as the brother of his flesh had been with him and saved him all those years ago, so now the brother of his heart had done the same.

"Spock!" He took an unsteady step toward the man that represented not only his salvation, but so much more. "I thought I was going to die."

"Not possible. You were never alone," Spock replied, echoing his thoughts.

The relief was overpowering, making him weak in the knees yet offering support at the same time. He reached for Spock, wanting nothing more than to embrace the man, to feel that he was solid, whole, real. His mind was a jumble, unable to coherently express his gratitude and profound joy, not that he would have trusted his voice at the moment anyway.

But the words spoken by his ever logical and proper friend stopped him. "Please Captain, not in front of the Klingons." Those were the words Spock said to him, but his eyes conveyed something else altogether.

It didn't matter. Even without the hug, there was perfect understanding between them. They had survived, lived to enjoy another day. He hadn't been truly alone; as long as Spock and Bones lived he would never really be alone, and that was all that mattered.

FINIS

*POA: Pony of the Americas. The breed was developed in Iowa in 1954 as an alternative to a full-sized horse for kids who had outgrown a standard pony. It just seemed like a perfect fit (no pun intended) for the Kirk boys. :D


End file.
